Greg's Mission
by tenofswords
Summary: Greg knows what to do for his friends. Post 'Grave Danger'. Oneshot drabble.


**Greg's Mission**.By tenofswords

**Disclaimer –** I don't own CSI, I don't own Pulp Fiction, Kill Bill or Casablanca.

**Notes – **This is just a little piece on Greg's thoughts after 'Grave Danger.' Just drabble, and one-shot drabble at that. Nothing meaningful.

It was roughly a week after. There was no need to say 'after what?' Everyone knew what. The effects were clear to see in everybody. The emotional fallout was still all present and correct.

Warrick kept looking at that bad luck coin as if he expected it to grow legs, Grissom, the eminent entomologist, could no longer look at an ant farm without flinching, and Nick, well, lets just say sleeping alone was no longer an option. Fortunately, Sara could assist him very appropriately in that department...

As for Greg, for some bizarre reason whenever he looked back on the incident, he kept associating it either with two guys in cheap suits opening a car trunk saying something like 'we should have shotguns', or some young blonde lady jumping around in yellow spandex with a samurai sword.

The spark had gone out of Greg's eyes, as well. Oh, it would be back, it always came back, but it would take a while this time, he thought.

Greg knew that the CSI's couldn't go on like this. They needed to come back from under the dark shadow that the previous week's events had cast over them. They needed to...be...again.

And Greg knew how to do it.

Greg knew he wasn't as tough as Catherine, as smart as Grissom, as courageous as Nick, as loyal as Warrick, or as compassionate as Sara, but he could do one thing better than all of them. He could laugh.

And that was what they all badly needed right now. They needed a fool, a court jester; they needed the old Greg back and rocking! And he was too happy to oblige.

It wouldn't be easy, he knew. It would have to be taken slowly and carefully at first, finding out which territory was safe ground and which wasn't (Greg figured not mentioning bombs, ants or big glass boxes would be an excellent start).

Still, he reasoned, half of his job was already done for him. Laughter was only part of the soul's equation. Love constituted a **big** percentage, and that part was already taken care of without Greg's aid. Grissom had Sophia, Catherine had Warrick, and Nick had Sara.

It had, until recently, been Greg who had had the honour of being Sara's boyfriend, but she needed Nick more than she needed him, and Nick sure as hell needed her now! If that meant that Greg and Sara were no longer an item, no problem there. Whatever it took to make his friends truly happy again, Greg was willing to do.

He would teach his friends, his partners, his (oh hell, Greg, just say it!) his **family**, how to laugh again. He would give them back their souls, bit by bit. And then, it would be time for him to say goodbye.

You see, Greg had thought that he could cut it in the field. He'd thought he had what it took to be a CSI. In truth, he wasn't even close. All the tragedy was too much.

Going back to the lab was absolutely out of the question. Quite apart from the feelings of claustrophobia that the DNA lab once inspired in him, it would mean putting Mia out of a job, after she had dropped everything to come and work for the Vegas crime lab.

Even if he didn't work full time in the field, he still had to get away from that damn city. He lived right near Industrial Road. The lights, the noise, the screaming from delirious casino patrons was more than he could stand. He had to leave. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, and for the rest of his...

Ah, dammit! Now he was quoting Bogart! It was true, though. He had to change careers before this one cost him his (already questionable) sanity.

However, he wasn't leaving until he could be sure of his teammates' sanity. He would stay for as long as it took to bring them all back, and completely back. Greg knew the difficulties, he knew he couldn't wave a magic wand and make it like it never happened; that was one of the reasons he was leaving, after all. There was too much stuff, even for the ordinary victims, the ones he didn't know, that he couldn't make untrue.

But he was willing to make the effort. He was ready to try. And he wasn't going to give up until he succeeded. He would do this one final duty to his friends. He owed them that much.

Greg happened to glance into the locker room mirror, and see something in his face. He smiled in pleasant surprise. The spark in his eyes was back! That hadn't taken so long after all.

Mind you, Greg wasn't that surprised. Now he had a mission, a job, a purpose. He would not fail.

And he would see them all smile and laugh again.


End file.
